


Rest Well and Deep

by Morse_s Child (sherlockstummy)



Category: Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: Gen, Italy, M/M, Missing Scene, Napping, Sleep, snoring, the death of the self
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockstummy/pseuds/Morse_s%20Child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morse walks in to find Robbie asleep and he thinks about things. Missing scene from "The Death of the Self" and inspired by "Desire Lines" by Jackie Thomas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest Well and Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Semi-romantic if you've got ship goggles on. Morse is definetly biromantic, though.

Morse turned the key in the unfamiliar door and opened it. The room beyond is quiet, but his mind is racing, so he hardly notices. Despite the veritable barrage of information, he is full of a good Italian lunch and dozy from the heat of the day. The Italians close down for siesta, like the Spanish, around midday. Time seems to move slower when the only occupants of the streets are stray cats looking for sunlight and warm paving stones. Morse saw his fair share of them on his way back to the hotel, even stopped to pet a friendly ginger tabby looking for attention at his ankles.

“Lewis?” Morse calls lightly, wondering if, perhaps, his sergeant has found his own way to lunch, or that he is on the phone with his family back in Oxford. Lewis was on edge about missing some event or other, likely to do with the children. Morse suspects Val is used to her lot as a policeman’s wife by now.

Hearing no answer, Morse adjusts the jacket on his arm and walks through to the main room, humming under his breath. He misses the figure on the bed entirely as he divulges himself of his tie. It’s not until he’s startled by a snore that he tilts his head to listen and then, out of curiosity, returns to the main area.

Lewis is sprawled on the bed, asleep. There is a cheap paperback lying open on a much-abused spine in his limp hand, the pages fluttering in the wind of the air conditioning, and the phone has been moved from the bedside table to lie close to his hip. The handset is off the receiver, and, stepping closer, Morse can hear the familiar buzz of an open line. He reaches over Robbie to replace it and put the phone back on the table, scoffing as Robbie snores again loudly.

Morse steps back, hands on hips moving to pockets as fondness blooms in his chest. He finds more and more of his time is spent reflecting fondly on his sergeant. He’s just genuinely happy to be paired with this man, ever patient, ever a balance, ever surprisingly brilliant. Morse had known from the moment Lewis mistakenly apprehended him that the younger man could be great, if nudged in the right direction. And, Morse had learned, Robbie needed little nudging. 

Morse chuckled fondly as Lewis shifted his leg in sleep, a surprisingly graceful gesture Morse would’ve only thought to equate with the movements of a woman. Morse was very much not sexually attracted to men, but legs and necks and yes, arses too, were made to be appreciated. And Lewis had beautiful legs. Morse nearly blushed; they were fully on display, too. Lewis was in nothing but his pants and a sleep shirt.

“You idiot,” Morse murmured fondly. “You thought I’d be back before you took a nap.” Or, he thought, long after he’d woken up. He supposed, given that he had been with a woman, his being gone a couple of hours was a fair assumption.

Morse allowed a genuine smile to cross his face and he crossed his arms over his chest. Really, there was nothing to do until Lewis awoke; the whole city was asleep. Morse very rarely found himself tired or hungry during a case, but had found himself the latter at lunch. Perhaps wanting to please a pretty lady had given him his appetite. Or perhaps it was Italy itself, awakening in him a hunger for the full experience. Well, after all, a large part of Italian culture was centered around food. 

Content that Lewis was asleep in the next room and not lost in Italy somewhere or, worse yet, fraternizing with the idiotic Italian constabulary, Morse allowed himself to revisit the feeling of fullness and contentment he’d felt before. He toed off his shoes and lay on his bed, hands folded on his stomach, contemplating the faint designs on the ceiling.

All was quiet, but for Lewis’ snoring. Morse chuckled, closing his eyes. 

He hadn’t expected to drift off; he was a light sleeper by nature, and noise often disturbed his rest. But Robbie’s snores were soothing, and Morse allowed himself the luxury of a well-deserved afternoon nap.


End file.
